


making islands where no island should go

by mandyfuckinmilkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Tumblr Fic, mentions abuse, mentions religious elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1977771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandyfuckinmilkovich/pseuds/mandyfuckinmilkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nothing in the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	making islands where no island should go

Karen stomps into the Kash and Grab, the tire iron still clenched in her hand and she makes a beeline for the coolers. The anger is still running through her, numbing her out more than the cold. She sees Eddie’s face, hears Eddie’s voice, hears “Whore”. Why did she stop at one window on the car, she’s not satisfied with one, she should have totaled the whole damn thing. She grits her teeth and grabs the first bottle her fingers touch.

Up at the front, Mandy Milkovich is sitting on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth, loudly popping a piece of gum in her mouth. Staring at her. Karen stares back stubbornly.

“Ian’s in the back.” And back to staring. Unblinking. Intense blue eyes. That shift down and then back up, taking in her short dyed hair, the black clothes, the tire iron.

A pause. A smirk.

Karen’s eyes never leaving Mandy’s face.

“I liked you better blonde.”

And that’s how it starts.

//

Her name means pure.

Which is kind of fucking hilarious. Eddie picked it out. Which is kind of depressing. And she used to believe in it. She used to believe in a lot of things. Eddie prayed and prayed and prayed and took her to church every Sunday morning and every Wednesday night and was so proud when she’d sing the songs and say the prayers and bow her head. She didn’t understand what she was doing, what it meant.

But Eddie was so proud. And that felt good.

She gets baptized when she’s 8. She doesn’t want to. Sheila gives her baths and showers in scalding hot water that makes her skin red, uses soap that makes her eyes sting and nose burn.

_“You’re going to be so clean sweetie.”_

But she’s not. She never is. Not for them.

And they give her this white cloth dress, tell her how important it is, Eddie tells her how clean she’s going to be, how new and pure. She’s gasping for air before she’s even touched the water.

She sits next to Eddie, her hair dripping, her eyes wet, and Eddie looks at her, frowning. She wonders if she’ll ever be clean enough.

//

She doesn’t remember when she started liking girls. If she even made a grand realization.

She likes boys. She knows that. She likes the looks they give her in the hallways and in classes and on the train. They don’t like holding her hand but they like looking at her cleavage and the peek of her thong. She has a color for every day of the week.

She likes sex. She knows that. She knows about prayer and god and heaven and that she finds something close to that. Almost. A religion with her name on their lips.

She likes girls. She begins to learn that. Mindy Carlson is an annoying bitch in real life but behind closed doors, gets on her knees and shuts up. Karen likes soft and biting lips and girls.

So. She likes people.

No. She likes the feeling. The high. The power she gets from making them look, from making them want her, from making them come, fall apart in her arms.

Her name on their lips.

//

It’s nothing in the beginning. It’s a mouth and a hand and someone in between her legs. They don’t exchange numbers. They don’t date. They don’t plan ahead. Karen actually kind of doesn’t even like her in the beginning. She smokes in her room, leaving ashes and cigarette butts everywhere. She’s loud. And hostile. And pulls her hair and pushes and shoves her and doesn’t let her have space to think or breath. But it’s nothing.

Mandy sneaks into her room and Karen’s already barely got the door locked when they’re reaching for the hems of their shirts and yanking on bra straps. Mandy sucks a hickey onto her breast and trails her fingers over her thighs.

Karen gasps and arches up into her and it’s nothing.

//

Until it’s not nothing.

//

Mandy keeps a baton in her purse. Shows Karen how to use it. Tells her it’s for creeps everywhere who think the bus is Pervs R Us.

Mandy has a bruise on her cheek and brushes it off. “I fell.”

Three weeks later, she has another one on her ribs. “Some bitch in homeroom had it coming.”

Two weeks after that her mouth is swollen and there’s blood on the front of her shirt. And it’s the middle of the night. And she looks. So scared.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Karen gives her a clean shirt and a wash cloth and some of Sheila’s cookies and she falls asleep sprawled on her back. Karen watches her for the rest of the night.

//

There’s got to be a purpose. A why. She likes Mandy’s smile, likes her eyes and how rough she is while having such soft hands.

She just can’t figure it out.

//

Eddie stops coming home and Sheila never leaves her room and Mandy walks her home one night in the summer and it’s hot and humid and they’re swaying on the sidewalk and laughing and giggling. The alcohol is heavy on their tongues, and Karen smells something sweet and sticky and brushes Mandy’s hair out of her eyes. Doesn’t know how to say she’s lonely. And maybe that’s it. Maybe all of this is because she’s alone. Mandy reaches for her hand, links their fingers together. And she understands. She spends the night for the first time, her face pressed into Karen’s neck and she understands.

//

“My mom hated my dad.”

“My dad hates my mom.”

Mandy’s tracing her tattoo, the W, the H, the loops in the O five or six times before moving on to the R and the E.

“Why’d you get this?”

Karen watches her fingers, remembers the needle in their place, how numb she’d felt, how she’d wanted one thing, anything to get back at him with.

“My dad hates me.” She sounds small and tiny and quiet and her throat is tight. She hates him and she hates herself and this word on her skin.

Mandy leans closer, dips her head, and presses her mouth to the ink.

It’s like. It’s like scalding water. It’s like drowning. It’s like someone caring enough to pull her back.

//

Mandy spends the night a lot. Sheila doesn’t care, she thinks it’s good that Karen has a close friend.

“Hello friend,” Mandy murmurs when she slides down Karen’s body that night.

“Shut up,” Karen laughs and kicks her lightly and Mandy’s smile is bright.

//

Mandy doesn’t show up to school for 2 days.

She doesn’t show up to Karen’s for 3 nights.

She feels like something’s missing. Like some part of her is missing.

She’s idly flipping through her history book, looking for dates and names for her quiz tomorrow when her window flies open and Mandy climbs through, disheveled and panting, her eyes and cheeks wet and red.

And she can’t even speak. She can’t make her mouth work because she knows something is wrong, something is terribly wrong but Mandy’s already lifting her shirt above her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Karen’s hands cup her face and wipe her cheeks and she kisses her softly.

She doesn’t blink at the bruises on Mandy’s legs or how sensitive she is.

Mandy lies with her head on Karen’s chest, her eyes tired and shuttered.

“My dad hates me too,” she whispers. Karen tightens her arms and doesn’t mention the tears falling onto her skin.

// 

“I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either.”

She taste like cherries and vodka and Karen doesn’t know the point of it only that one had to be made. That it’s important and worth it and Mandy pushes and shoves her and Karen is ready for it.

//

It’s the exact opposite. It’s the best feeling she’s ever felt. It’s Mandy’s hand in hers and Mandy’s eyes on hers and Mandy’s mouth on hers. It’s Mandy smoking at the open window in her underwear and Karen’s tank top. It’s Mandy’s hand in her hair, blonde and long and curling at the edges. It’s her name on Mandy’s lips followed by a smile.


End file.
